


They Say It's Your Birthday

by shipwrecks



Series: Amoral Backbones [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, birthday blowjobs, birthday cake - rihanna, birthday shenanigans, birthday song - 2 chainz ft. kanye west, do u get what i wrote about????????, say aah - trey songz, too drunk to fuck - dead kennedys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 05:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipwrecks/pseuds/shipwrecks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unfortunately, he doesn't drink that much most of the time and even after having half as much as Grantaire has had, he's truly plastered. He'd be embarrassed, but he has suddenly misplaced his dignity.</p><p>[can be read alone]</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Say It's Your Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flaneuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaneuse/gifts), [and anyone else who likes especially wordy blowjobs](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=and+anyone+else+who+likes+especially+wordy+blowjobs).



> terrible, wonderful shameless porn for my girl mariana because (and I quote her message to me) "i also read so much fic where grantaire gives enjolras a blowjob but there’s no enjolras sucking off grantaire fic??? like where the fuck is it at???" here it is!!!!!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LADY GRANTAIRE, NEVER PUT THE BOTTLE DOWN.
> 
> working title was 'Open Wide, I Know You're Thirsty' but I (pretend to) have more shame than that.

i.

It's Grantaire's birthday.

Enjolras doesn't even know why he knows this, but he does. And he also knows that if Grantaire knew his birthday, he'd make a really big thing about it. So here he is, planning a party for a guy he swears he doesn't even like that much. Luckily, it falls on a Friday so everyone he's seen at parties Grantaire's been to before can make it; although they seem more excited at the prospect of getting drunk than wishing birthday sentiments to Grantaire (he's pretty sure some of these people aren't entirely positive who Grantaire is).

So yes, it's not the best party ever. But he makes a facebook event, a hand drawn sign, and a playlist, and figures that, other than whinging on all night about getting older, that's about how much effort Grantaire would put into his day of birth.

Grantaire is ridiculously pleased with all of it, and you cannot wipe the look off his face when he finds out it was Enjolras that organized the whole thing. He insists he's going to need to drink all the alcohol the party has to deal with this information. Enjolras makes no effort to stop him from attempting this, because it is his birthday, after all, and he says, "Loosen up! As the king of this day, I demand you!" and against all odds, Enjolras listens to him.

Unfortunately, he doesn't drink that much most of the time and even after having half as much as Grantaire has had, he's truly plastered. He'd be embarrassed, but he has suddenly misplaced his dignity.

"Grantaire, put that bottle down!"

He looks at him, and looks truly offended.

"Are you being a wet mop again tonight?"

But nevertheless, he puts the bottle down and Enjolras swipes it off the table, not bothering with a glass. Grantaire is aghast.

"Who are you and where have you put Apollo?"

"Someone hath replaced my water with something that is not water," he says as dignified as he can manage, but then hiccups.

Grantaire's eyebrows almost start blending in with his hairline he raises them so high, and Enjolras finds he really likes his surprised face. His cheeks are ruddy because he's been drinking basically all day; his mouth is slightly open, and his lips are stained with wine, and the corners curve into a small smile, even as he's shocked because he likes this Enjolras, and Enjolras likes this Grantaire who likes this Enjolras, and - shit, when he is drunk, he is horny.

The music is loud, no one can hear them, no one's paying attention to them anyway, and Enjolras gets close (close enough for Grantaire to smell a lethal combination of different alcohols on his breath, and he chuckles even before he says anything because he can predict the oncoming hangover), and says, "I want to suck you off" in his ear and he chokes on the laugh very quickly.

Enjolras grabs Grantaire's hand, puts three fingers down, and takes the remaining two into his mouth, until his lips are past the knuckles. He hollows his cheeks around them, sucks, making obscene noises. His lips are as purple as Grantaire's, has had far too much wine, and indecently working on Grantaire's fingers in a way he can only imagine is what he'd do to his cock. He shivers, swallows hard. Tries not to give himself away but he is betrayed by his face; Enjolras notices and his mouth upturns into a smile. (A slightly unsure smile, but a smile, and it's so rare, especially around Grantaire.) He licks up his fingers, spurred on, he's sure, by the alcohol, because he feels so outside himself but in more control with Grantaire than he ever has, and he likes it.

Grantaire also does. A lot.

Before he can pull himself together and respond, Enjolras tugs on his sleeve and simply says, "Upstairs." as if that settles the matter and they're going upstairs. (It does, in fact, settle the matter and they are on their way upstairs.)

He drags him into his room and finally, _finally_ , kisses him, and it's objectively a really bad kiss, sloppy and needy and teeth, but he's biased and it's great. And this weight unsettles itself that he didn't even know was there until he realizes he's wanted to do this at least all night, maybe longer, maybe the weight's been there for some time now, but it's gone cause he's done it.

"I didn't know I wanted to do that so badly," just tumbles out when they break apart, their mouths still so close it's like only they can hear him say it, and only they need to, and he curses himself internally for being drunker than Grantaire, because he's being so stupidly revealing.

"You like me, Apollo," he just says.

"Shut up."

But he gets him to the bed anyway, shoving him down for good measure, and he climbs on top of him in a way that feels sexy but also the back of his brain tells him he's drunk enough to think he's being sexy. He ignores this fight in favor of Grantaire's heavy breathing, which sounds more like approval.

And he does shut him up, with his mouth, and finally (and this finally is another finally he's been waiting for), he straddles him and then. Friction. He is drunker and hornier than he thought, but so is Grantaire. He rolls his hips up to him, he moans into his mouth. Enjolras catches it, keeps it for himself.

He's not going to lazily make out and rut all night, though. He deftly unbuttons and unzips his pants rather quickly and without looking down. (Grantaire is impressed.) He pulls them off, and then he's at his thighs and that's. Well, that proves too enticing.

There are freckles he didn't know were there, almost blending in with the rest of his skin unless you're up close, and he is up so close. He tentatively nips at the spots scattered down his legs; he grips his thighs tighter as he moves closer to his cock.

But he once again ignores it, this time in favor of a left hipbone, its jut he must bite and when he finally (a finally Grantaire is waiting for) is done with it and is to focus on doing exactly what he said he wanted to do, the hip is already bruising.

He noses at the joint where his leg and hip connect, licks his inner thigh and trails his tongue up a vein. Mouths at all around his cock, but distinctly not it, face in his pubic hair and his fingers absentmindedly pinching the outside of his right leg.

"Are you serious? Are you even going to actually put my dick in your mouth?"

"Yes," Enjolras replies, answering both questions.

He only takes the tip in his mouth at first. Grantaire is not prepared for his tongue all the same.

"Fuck, Apollo." He does not mean to call him by the name of a Greek god during sex. His ego doesn't need that, but. _Fuck._

The drunk fucker actually smiles, mouth around his cock, and looks up at him through long lashes as he takes him deeper. That is the last time Grantaire will ever call him sexually aloof.

Enjolras is enjoying this. An absurd amount. He has almost all of him in his mouth; he has to keep his hands on his hips to steady him. (He's pressing on the bruise, new and sensitive, and Grantaire isn't sure just how much that vague sting is making this better.) As he holds him down, he pushes himself against the mattress, between Grantaire's legs, grinds down, needs more. But he stops thinking about himself, because this isn't about him. Just keeps that little edge in his mind as he sucks Grantaire off.

He feels fingers run through his hair and Grantaire tugs and tries to push him further down. It would be insulting if it wasn't risibly hot. He makes a noise, because of it, that Grantaire can only sort of hear but can _feel_ and that's it for him.

"En- Gonna- I'm gonna come."

It comes out quickly, punctuated by breaths. But his warning is late and mostly futile; he's already coming as he says it, grasping at the sheet underneath him for purchase. Enjolras swallows because.

"Happy birthday."

He can't articulate a proper response, settles for an amusingly euphoric exhale that he hopes conveys gratitude but also kind of thinks communication, real language or otherwise, hasn't invented a thank you big enough for this.

"Are you…" he finally says, trails off, but thinks the unsaid question is pretty much out there.

"Um" muffled into his stomach is the answer he gets.

"C'mere," because he's not entirely useless, even on his birthday, and Enjolras looks up, confused, so he just pulls him up to him.

He reaches down to get his pants open, and he's hard. Grantaire almost gets hard again with the thought that blowing him turned Enjolras on that much. However, he's working a little slow, and Enjolras has more immediate plans, so he just squirms and shifts out of his pants enough to rut against his hip and. _Yes._

He grips the headboard and balances himself over Grantaire as he thrusts against him. He's faintly aware that he's abandoned dignity at this point (as if he hadn't already earlier) but he's so close, doesn't need any more than this right now.

Grantaire merely watches, Enjolras' mouth still red and slightly swollen, parted slightly and letting out these abbreviated breaths, rapid, heady, hair plastered down against his forehead with sweat, sees him swallow back a moan. He pulls him down to him, lets him keep going but kisses and bites his neck and collarbones. They taste salty and familiar, and for some strange reason, Grantaire thinks of the sea as he marks up his throat.

Enjolras groans into his hair as he comes, so close to his ear, it's amplified, and Grantaire cannot un-hear that, not ever. He relaxes into him, but he's off balance and slides off his side. He's drunk and tired and doesn't care. Neither does Grantaire.

He falls asleep to the sound of waves crashing in his head which he pins on an early onsetting hangover.

ii.

"It smells like sex in here!"

The very too loud voice of Courfeyrac rouses them both out of sleep. They've drifted apart and are under the sheet, so the fact that both of their pants are still undone is not given away yet.

"Go away, Courf," Grantaire says mostly into his pillow.

"Looks like someone had a happy birthday. Bangarang!"

Enjolras turns bright red and Grantaire flips him off. He promises them his ultimate hangover cure breakfast which they at first appreciate, but he blasts 'Birthday Sex' in the kitchen and Enjolras hides under the covers.

"I regret everything."

"Everything?" Grantaire asks, sounding a little too dejected to be joking.

"No, not actually everything, you idiot."

"Oh. Ok."

"Happy birthday. You can't tell anyone about this."

He won't. He is stashing this one away for no one else.


End file.
